


The Hurdles We Face

by 12019716



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Olympics, Past Injuries, Romantic Comedy, Swearing, Track and Field, broships - Freeform, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12019716/pseuds/12019716
Summary: “You know, you might be the only person I know who has bigger balls than me.” Oikawa indulged Yahaba with a small but seemingly impressed smile.“Huh?”“Do you seriously not know who you just picked a fight with?” The brunet inquired, his tone turning more curious.Yahaba has always been a bit on the feisty side but what happens when he picks a fight of olympic proportions?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poteto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poteto/gifts).



> On the First Day of Haikyuu-mas  
> My Haikyuu Love gave to me  
> A story about Kyoutani
> 
> Gift for Poteto for the Haikyuu Secret Santa Event
> 
> Prompt: 
> 
> Pairings: Kuroo/Daichi, Kyoutani/Yahaba
> 
> Ideas: I prefer fluff rather than angst. I'm a sucker for college AUs and childhood friends AUs. I'd like to see some friendships too!! I love all of the friendships (my favorite platonic brotps are Kuroo/Oikawa, Yachi/Tsukishima and Yahaba/Oikawa, but that's not mandatory, any and all portrail of platonic relationships will be appreciated). 
> 
> I tired to do ALL THE THINGS. Hope you guys enjoy!

 

Yahaba didn’t think twice about his three-hundred dollar textbook as he threw his bag to the floor before promptly falling face first into his mattress. 

An unintelligible groan leaving his lips as he recalled the test he had just completed, which he was not entirely sure he passed. Dwelling too deeply in post test wreckage he didn’t bother to move his smothered face even when the door to his dorm room opened. 

“What’s this? Has Ya-chan gotten so lonely in his singlehood that he’s resorted to making out with his mattress? How sad. Poor Ya-chan.” The brunet ruffled his hair as he moved to put his stuff away in his side of their shared room. 

Somehow Yahaba conjured the energy to roll his head to side so he could glare at his roommate. Unfortunately, Oikawa was impervious to the scathing looks of others. Iwaizumi being the exception, of course. 

When Oikawa had suggested they room together after finding out that Yahaba would be attending the same university, he was understandably wary. He hadn’t really gotten to consider it thoroughly before he was already coerced into it by the brunet. He’d been pretty certain that this would be the worst decision of his life. One he didn’t even make. Even Hanamaki had sent him a text simply saying “Imma pray for you”. That hadn’t really helped .

As surprising as it may seem, he actually liked living with Oikawa. It was probably because he wasn’t living with ‘Oikawa’, he was living with Tooru. Tooru wasn’t the facade he put up when he was in the real world. In their room, he was the self-conscious, alien-loving, and loyal person whose eccentric qualities made Yahaba pursue a friendship with the older boy in the first place. 

“Come on, Ya-chan. You won’t meet anyone by smothering yourself in a mattress that people have probably been doing unspeakable things on for over a decade.” The brunet tugged him uncerimoniously by the arm. Yahaba just let himself be dragged across the bed until his top half dangled over the edge. “Let’s go to the gym. It won’t do you any good to be fat, sad, and lonely.” 

“I’m not lonely, or fat, or sad. I merely just got wrecked by a test,” he grunts out unattractively as he tries to pull himself into an upright position. 

“Then let’s find something more attractive to wreck you, shall we?”

“You’re kind of the worst, you know that, right?”

The brunet just shrugs. “I may be the worst, but I’m the best at it, and it’s always good to be the best at what you do, ne?”

~~~

The gym was busy but not crazy busy like it had been at the beginning of the school year. When the year started, the gym was packed, but the traffic teetered off as teenage resolutions wavered. They dropped their stuff off in some of the offered lockers before moving to the main room that was filled with machines and weights. They stopped by two treadmills, setting down the few items that carried in, to begin stretching. 

Before Yahaba could even start the machine, his attention was aptly pulled in another direction. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t have noticed him if it hadn’t been for the loud grunting the guy was making with every repetition. He turned to take in the annoying, what he presumed to be, frat boy when he froze in place. 

Unwittingly, he was already moving towards the man at the bench press, rushing forward and clearing the distance between them in mere moments. On an upward rep, he pushed back on the heavy loaded barbell, causing it to catch in the rack. The lifter’s arms buckling under the sudden change. If it hadn’t been for the rack, the whole weight would’ve come down onto his chest.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” The lifter jumped up quickly, grabbing Yahaba by his shirt. “THAT WAS DANGEROUS ASSHOLE!” Angry amber eyes glared at him with a smoldering fury that would’ve made a lesser man shake in his boots. This was not a lesser man, however. This was Yahaba Shigeru. He had spent two of his school years witnessing Iwaizumi’s fury- most of which was caused by Oikawa- so, he was relatively unaffected by the frenzied glare.

With a hard shove, he knocked the lifter back down onto the bench. The violent action must’ve surprised him because he crumbled backwards onto the bench, his hand releasing Yahaba's shirt in the process. Finally not having this frothing dog so close to his face allowed him to take in the other man more clearly. 

Well shit. 

This guy was ripped. No, more than ripped. This guy was beefy. And Yahaba just picked a fight with him. _Nice work asshole_ , he mentally chastised himself. Beyond the heaving muscles was an angry face of someone who clearly didn’t belong to a frat. This guy was a wild beast. Bleach blond hair, with two dark stripes, and bleached eyebrows, which were so light they may as well not have been there, to match. Also, he wasn’t sure if that was eyeliner or his eyelashes were just insanely thick. A barely restrained growl jolts him back into the moment. 

Oh right, he interfered for a reason. 

“You’re right, dumbass. That was dangerous. What kind of idiot lifts that kind of weight without a spotter? Are you trying to kill yourself?” He snapped back at the man who seemed honestly surprised that Yahaba didn’t seem to be backing down. 

After a brief moment, the lifter composed himself enough to continue with his adrenaline induced rampage. “So grabbing my weight mid rep is going to save my life?”

Yahaba glared and huffed. “Well, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to do, but I wouldn’t have done it if you had a goddamn spotter like you’re supposed to. It’s literally written on the walls right over there, jackass,” gesturing vaguely to a poster on the far wall. 

“I know what I’m doing you nosey piece of shit. And what’re you going to do anyway? Spot me? As if you can hold that kind of weight.” 

The man looked like he was beginning to get to his feet again. Yahaba could stay and continue arguing, but he had a feeling the guy wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say. 

Seriously, this guy’s head is as thick as the weights he’s lifting and twice as dense. 

_You can’t help someone if they don’t want help_ , Yahaba reminded himself. And if this douche didn’t want help then there was no point to him being here. 

“Fine, whatever. You want to kill yourself doing something stupid, go right ahead. Can’t say I didn’t warn you though.” With that Yahaba stalks away back to where he and Oikawa had picked out treadmills. 

It wasn’t until he was walking away that he noticed that almost everyone in the gym was staring at him. All of them. Collectively, with horrified expressions. He could also still feel the man glaring daggers into his back but whatever. Let people, and that guy, think what they want. He did the right thing and if they had a problem with that they could shove off. 

Oikawa was staring at him in a scrutinizing way as they started a steady pace on the treadmill. Yahaba thought he would say something but he just kept staring, occasionally humming to himself. 

“What?!” Yahaba barked at the brunet, who just smiled at the outburst. 

“You know, you might be the only person I know who has bigger balls than me.” Oikawa indulged him with a small but impressed smirk. 

“Huh?”

“Do you seriously not know who you just picked a fight with?” The brunet inquired, his tone turning more curious. 

“A dumbass?” Yahaba replied flatly. 

“Pfft. Oh, Yahaba. You really need to get out more. That guy is Kyoutani Kentarou.”

“Well good for him.” He’s a guy, he has a name, why should Yahaba care?

“Ya-chan, you did track and field and you haven’t heard his name?” Yahaba frowned at that. “He’s on a scholarship for shot put. More importantly, he’s projected to be representing japan for it in the next Olympics.” 

Yahaba blinked at that. That guy? In the Olympics? If there was an event he belonged in it would be douchebaggery, for which he would most likely take the gold. 

Oikawa continues, “I watched a video of one of his tournaments once. He’s insane. You should see it.” 

As if Yahaba would bother. 

“That guy probably didn’t need a spotter. That probably isn’t even his max weight. Probably not even close. Man, I can’t believe you picked a fight with an up and coming Olympian. You sure are ballsy.” 

“That has nothing to do it. He was doing something dangerous in a public space. How could I not do something about it. No matter who he is, you don’t fuck around with safety, especially when your benching that kind of weight.”

~~~

Yahaba was kind of surprised that nothing else came from that incident. I mean, he had felt the man’s hard glare on him for the remainder of his time in the gym, but he never engaged with him beyond that. 

Well, whatever. 

If the guy decided to make nothing of it then neither would he. 

After that, his week had been fairly normal. He had a paper due earlier today on prevalent artists in the Restoration period that nearly killed him. Eight pages, single spaced, 12-font. It was serious bullshit. Not to mention he had an excruciating architecture history test immediately after turning his paper in. All in all, it had been an incredibly stressful day with little to no sleep the night before. Unapologetically, he grabbed a burger and some waffle fries from the union before shuffling his way back to his dorm. Oikawa would probably yell at him for eating such greasy food, but forget that noise. He needed some comfort food after the last twenty four hours. 

He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he was jolted awake from a nightmare. Not just any nightmare, that nightmare. It was almost always that nightmare. He’d always get it in times of stress, and he found it impossible to wake himself up from it until it completely played out. Blindly, he felt around for his phone, checking the time once he found it. 4 a.m.. Not quite night, but not quite day. The adrenaline coursing through him from the nightmare informing him that sleep would not be forthcoming at this point. Well, even if he did manage to get back to sleep he would most likely end up back in the same nightmare. 

He glanced over at his roommate. 

Oikawa is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people he’s ever met. But man, is he an ugly sleeper. His hair stuck up in every which way, drool trailing down his face and onto his pillow. His blankets and sheets twisted around him like a pretzel. How he managed it, Yahaba would never know. 

After a few minutes of staring at the hot dumpster fire that was his roommate, he decided to get up. If he was awake he might as well be productive. As quietly as possible, he grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door. The gym should be empty at this time, and to be honest, a work out alone sounded really nice. Not that he didn’t like going with Oikawa, it was just noisier. Much, much noisier. 

~~~

As it turned out, the gym wasn’t quite as empty as he hoped. There was one other person in the machine room. 

One olympic sized dumbass. 

_Whatever, ignore him and do what you’re here to do_. He told himself before he started up on his routine. 

It was actually more peaceful than he had anticipated. When he had seen the other guy in the room, he had lost all hope of a quiet exercise, but that had not been the case. The mad dog was doing his own thing, and Yahaba was doing his. And the silence, though tinged with a lingering tenseness, was relieving. 

At least, it had been until he could feel sharp eyes on his back as he jogged lightly on the treadmill. _Ignore the mutt and he’ll go away_ , Yahaba tried to convince himself.

Turns out, it’s really awkward to do things that required coordination while someone is watching you. Intensely. Especially if it’s someone you don’t care for. Luckily, or unluckily, he didn’t have to squirm under that unnerving gaze for long. He couldn’t help but tense as he heard the man approaching. 

Yahaba had seen the guy’s muscles, there was no way he could take him on in a fight. Sure, Yahaba was scrappy, but this guy was a tank. Though, Yahaba did appear to have the intellectual advantage, so he could probably work things in his favor. Perhaps. Maybe. Possibly. 

“Running.” 

The deep grumble startles him from his thoughts. He slows his pace and looks over his shoulder and quirks a brow. “I know of it.” He quips sassily. Oikawa was rubbing off on him. 

The man grunts. Whether he’s amused or not Yahaba can’t tell from the rough noise. “You do Track and Field?”

That comment has Yahaba’s brows raising. He pauses his machine and turns to the man. “How do you know that?” He questions warily. 

“Your running. The pace. Your breathing. Your posture.” He shrugs after that as if those eight words were a thorough explanation. 

Yahaba catches the other’s amber eyes, and for a moment he doesn’t look away because, instead of anger, he sees curiosity in the other man’s eyes. Finally, he breaks eye contact and responds quietly, “I did. I don’t anymore.” 

“Why?”

Yahaba’s fists clench instinctively. “College is hard enough without adding a club or sport to it. At the end of the day, getting a job is more important.” He responds icily, desperate to end the conversation here. 

“What you’re really saying is, you gave it up. You gave up.” The man stared at Yahaba with a defiant and challenging gaze. 

Yahaba’s blood simmered. If the other man had been astute, he would've seen the rage building in Yahaba’s eyes and would probably disengage promptly. “Fuck you.”

“Tch. Don’t get pissy at me because you're too afraid to go after something you want. Pathetic.” 

For the second time, the future olympian is thrown off guard as he is grabbed and thrown roughly against the window in front of the treadmill. Yahaba is on him in an instant with a forearm pressing against the blond’s throat. 

“You talk shit like you know everything,” Yahaba hisses at the other man. His anger rolling off him like steam. “You don’t. You don’t know a goddamn thing. So get your fucking face out of my business.” He leans in closer so the man can see the fury in his eyes and feel his hot breath on his face. “Get up in my grill again and I will wreck you.” He emphasizes his point by throwing the man against the window again. 

He releases his grip and snatches his belongings before storming out of the room with murder in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani gets curious and Yahaba makes a dumb mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the Second Day of Haikyuu-mas,  
> My Haikyuu Love Gave to me:  
> Two- Yahaba Fighting  
> And a story about Kyoutani

Chapter 2

_“I heard that he got into so many fights that the principal is forcing him to do the club, otherwise he'll be expelled.”_

_“Wouldn't it just be better for everyone if he was expelled?”_

_“I heard he's taking steroids. That's why he's doing so well.”_

_“Ehh?”_

_“Well I heard he's in the Yakuza and that they're rigging the tournaments.”_

He had been given shit for as long as he could remember. If it hadn't been one thing, it had been another. At first, it was because of his face. There was nothing that could be done about the “resting bitch face”, as his sister liked to call it. Then it had been about his hair. Finally, it settled on his athleticism. Though, it would often be a combination of all three. What people said didn't bother him. Well, it may have at one point, but it would've been so long ago that he couldn't really remember a time like that anyway. No, he had long become accustomed to nasty criticisms from others. What really bothered him was that no one has the courage to say it to his face. 

Cowards pissed him off the most. 

That's why he was so surprised when this prissy looking puff got in his business not once but twice. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, the second time the guy had actually managed to intimidate him. Just a bit though. Like a smidgen at best. 

He couldn't really recall ever being approached in such a straightforward way before. So it was only natural that he'd grown curious about the mousy blond. 

“Oi.” His teammate, whom he couldn't recall the name of, tensed up in fear at the addressal. “Do you know a guy with like, blond-ish brown-ish grey-ish hair? He looks really prissy too?” 

The guy's fear passes after a moment, his expression replaced with confusion.”What major is he in?” Kyoutani just shrugs. “Ok, then do you know what year he's in?” Another shrug. The guy looks conflicted, as if telling the blond he had no idea was the scariest thing he ever had to do (it probably was). Luckily for him, the captain had overheard and took over the conversation. 

“Ask Kuroo. He knows everyone on campus.”

Kyoutani looked at the black haired man in confusion. The Captain was a reliable man who had earned his respect early on. So, he had no reason to doubt his sources, but he had no idea who this Kuroo guy was.

“He's a third year chemical engineering major.” Kyoutani stared at him blankly. “The lanky guy with black hair… looks like a rooster.”

Ah, that guy. 

Kyoutani nodded. He'd seen that guy around. A lot, actually. Now that he thought about it, did that guy ever even go to class? Not that Kyoutani could judge.

With a potential lead in mind, he decided to seek the upperclassmen out. 

~~~

“Oya Oya?”

Kyoutani already hated this guy.

The cat-like rooster man looked at him with an impossible look that was simultaneously curious and smug. “What brings our resident olympian to seek my humble presence?” 

Was dealing with this asshat worth his breath? Was satiating his curiosity necessary?

After a long moment, he grumbled out a response, “Do you know a guy with like, mousy hair? Parted like... I don't know. He looks really prissy too?” 

The lanky man raised a brow. “Yeah, that's Yahaba Shigeru.” The blond can't help but be surprised at the confirmation. Though, he still wasn't entirely sure this Kuroo guy wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

“He's a second year, art history major with a minor in architecture. He’s Oikawa Tooru’s roommate. Why?”

That was… a surprising amount of information. Did this guy know that much about everyone on campus? 

He hummed in acknowledgment and bowed slightly before turning to go. 

“Oi, why do you want to know?” Kuroo stepped in front of him, causing him to pause. “I need to, like, make sure you’re not going to, like, kill the guy or something.”

Kyoutani frowns, not that he ever stopped frowning during the entire exchange. “Just curious,” he huffs before shouldering the guy aside to head off to class. 

He couldn't help but grind his teeth at the faint “oho” he heard from the man he just abandoned.

~~~

“Oho.” 

Now wasn’t this something?

Kuroo grinned mischievously. There were so many interesting things that happened everyday. For today, this takes the cake. Maybe even this week. 

The mad dog and the cream puff, huh? How absolutely amusing. 

Glancing at his cell, he takes note of the time. With a giggle, that others would probably describe as the mating call of a dying cat, he skips off to the science building. Afterall, his class should be out soon.

~~~

He had been right, class had just let out as he arrived. It took no time to spot perfectly styled brown hair with a gaggle of giggling girls trailing behind. 

“Oiks!” The brunet turns immediately to him, his face lighting up gleefully. After a short excuse, he removes himself from the vultures, otherwise known as his fangirls. 

“Tet-Chan! Has Dai-Chan left you so lonely that you've come to seek out my comfort? Flattered as I am-”

“I've got some _National Enquirer_ worthy news that may or may not have something to do with you.” Kuroo smirked. He knew which buttons to push to get the brunet's undivided attention. Otherwise, getting Oikawa to listen to a complete sentence was like herding cats, though while wildly amusing, it was an inevitably a fruitless task. 

“Proof of alien life?!” The man nearly shrieked in unadulterated rapture. 

Perhaps Enquirer was a bit much, but some other equally skeezy tabloid that would headline such news.

“Ah, no, sorry.” The pout he received was truly epic. “And actually, it's not directly concerning you... just mildly related.”

The alien-loving astro-physics student just gives him a blank look before turning around and heading down the hall.

“Someone came to me asking about Yahaba, but if you're not interested, then s’cool.”

The brunet was on him in a hot second. “Someone interested in my Ya-Chan? But he's still just a baby. Daddy doesn't approve.”

“You would call yourself ‘daddy’.” 

Oikawa actually doesn't have a retort to that so he just shrugs.

“Who has taken an interest in my Ya-Chan?”

“I'm pretty sure he'd bury you for calling him that.”

“Please, I do what I want. Anyway, tell me who already!” 

Ah, an impatient Tooru was an annoying one, better to divulge sooner than later. 

“Our resident olympian.” He smirks smugly like a cat that got the cream. 

Surprisingly, Oikawa doesn't react in the expected manner. He seems thoughtful, in a concerned manner, for a moment. “Did he seem aggressive about it to you?” he asks seriously.

“No, no. I even asked if he had any violent intentions with our not-so-sweet cream puff. He didn't seem too.” He reassures the brunet. 

“Well, good.” His face relaxes back into his normal jovial expression. “So what was he interested in, hmm? Tell me everything.”

Kuroo regales him with the tale, which is summed up in no more than a minute. Yet despite its brevity Tooru seems no less excited. 

Kuroo smiles, “So you know what this means, right?”

Oikawa answers with a similar grin. “We intervene and harass them into a difficult but otherwise passionate relationship?”

“It's like we share a brain.”

Linking arms, the two prance off to further plan their nefarious schemes.

~~~

Yahaba was lounging on his bed watching Netflix when his door swung open. His roommate merely tossing his bag onto his bed before collapsing on top of Yahaba. 

“Umph,” was his responding grunt to the sudden added weight, but he made no other indication of acknowledgement of the other boy’s presence. 

“Ya-Chan, let's go to the gym. I feel like a slug after my physics class. A glamorous slug but slug nonetheless.”

Considering his recent trips to the gym his response was immediate. “No.”

“But Ya-Chan! Sluuuuug.” He wiggles on top of his roommate for emphasis. 

“Don't want to. Go by yourself.” It takes a decent amount of self control for Yahaba to not comment on the brunet's significant weight that may or may not be crushing him. There's only two ways that sort of comment could go: 1) Oikawa becomes devastated and therefore obnoxious, or 2) he uses it as cannon fodder for his gym mongering. 

“Ya-Chan, why do you hurt me like this? I haven't gotten to see you much since midterms, and I'm lonely.” The brunet whines pathetically.

“You're not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?” 

His inquiry is responded to with a cheerful “Nope!”. Heaving a heavy sigh, he closes his laptop, which has his roommate rolling off of him with a delighted squeal.

“You're such a good son.”

Yahaba just ignores his occasionally infuriating roommate and moved to grab his gym bag. Perhaps he would get lucky and there wouldn't be any shot-put-for-brains neanderthal there to harass him.

~~~

“Why are you like this?” Yahaba glares at his roommate.

“Forgot to mention Tet-Chan was joining us. Oops. Sorry.” Oikawa doesn't look sorry at all. 

“Why harass me into going when you're already meeting up with someone?” 

Yahaba is ignored in favor of greeting the rooster-haired man. Begrudgingly, Yahaba follows behind as they make their way through the gym. 

He doesn't spot him until he's finished his stretching and is climbing up onto the treadmill. 

_“Of-freaking-course.”_ He snarls mentally at the Olympian working out nearby. 

His roommate, sensing the change in his demeanor, follows his gaze. “What a coincidence! Mad Dog-Chan was here the last time we were here as well.”

Based off his roommate’s tone of voice, it doesn't sound like a coincidence. He hadn't told Oikawa about their previous confrontation. Primarily because the brunet was incredibly loyal and fiercely protective, to the point where he might have started something with the blond athlete. Or, at the very least, called Iwaizumi to start something with the olympian. Though thinking about it more, Iwaizumi was probably the only person he knew who could probably take on the mad dog. 

“Whatever,” Yahaba finally grumbled before setting a steady pace, pointedly looking forward. 

Odds are the asshat wouldn't start something with all these people around. Not to mention, he was next to Kuroo and Oikawa, so he could probably toss one of them at him before making a hasty escape. 

What was that guy's problem anyway? Ok, Yahaba had interrupted him in a potentially dangerous way, but the guy was already being a potential danger to himself anyway. His attempted behavioral correction certainly hadn't warranted the attitude he received in return. And, it absolutely did not call for the kind of accusations the man had thrown at him during their last encounter. 

Absent-mindedly, he increases his pace. 

Just remembering it made his blood boil. Where did that guy come off calling him a coward? He didn't even know Yahaba’s name and yet he was accusing him with such ridiculous slander. 

He increases the pace once again, speeding up into a full out run. 

“Ya-Chan,” his roommate calls out worriedly, “maybe you should slow down.”

Any concern from around him goes unheard as he's lost in the memory and the rage. How dare the fucker accuse him of being a quitter. Of giving it up. It's not like he wanted to, but he shouldn't have to explain that to some dumbbell brained self assured asshole. God, he didn't even have the decency enough to leave it alone when Yahaba had indicated a desire to end the conversation. No, he had to keep digging and prying into other people's painful memories.

“Yahaba! Slow down!” 

The yell startles him out of his thoughts, but before he can fully comprehend the shouted words, he felt it. The jarring pain and his leg giving out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my Tumblr: [TattooedCrow](https://tattooedcrow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Feel free to say hello!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling in the gym is the least of his worries especially when the olympic hopeful does something the unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the third day of Haikyuu-mas  
> My haikyuu love gave to me  
> Three: Oikawa squealing  
> Two: Yahaba Fighting  
> And a story about Kyoutani.

The loud crash garnered the attention of everyone in the gym.

Oikawa and Kuroo immediately leap off their treadmills, going to Yahaba who is sprawled out on the ground behind the treadmill, clutching his leg. 

“Shigeru, are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?” The brunet gently rights him into a sitting position, attempting to be mindful of any injuries. 

“My leg.” He groans, gritting his teeth and panting. Trying to breathe through the pain. 

Oikawa looks at him sadly and nods. “I know. Are you hurt anywhere else?” Yahaba shakes his head. 

Distantly, he can hear the murmurs of the gym’s other occupants. If he wasn't in so much pain, he would be embarrassed. Though, he didn't doubt the embarrassment would come later. 

A towel is handed over his shoulder, which Oikawa accepts and begins wiping the sweat from Yahaba’s face. 

Through the pain he can feel the momentary shock of figuring out the towel had been passed over by the olympic hopeful, whom apparently had actually taken to crouching behind Yahaba. His momentary surprise, however, didn't last, as another muscle spasm ripped through his thigh. He lets out another pained whine that has Oikawa and Kuroo moving again. 

“I'm going to grab the first aid kit, see if there's any meds or at least something to stabilize his leg with.” The black hair man mumbled before rushing out of the room. 

Oikawa nodded and turned to Yahaba. “I'm going to go grab a heating pad. Kyou-ken-chan, stay with Yahaba.” 

To Yahaba's surprise the blond nods obediently. With that confirmation, the brunet takes off. 

Kyoutani moves into Yahaba's field of vision, an almost thoughtful expression on his face.

“You're injured.” The blond murmurs almost questioningly. 

“No shit.” Yahaba grits out. The waves of pain and aftershocks of the spasm starting to even out a bit.

“No, before. That's why you don't… why'd you let me say those things? I wouldn't have if I'd…” The man tries to convey his thoughts albeit awkwardly. 

“Shouldn't have to have a reason for you accept my choices. Beside, why should I have to divulge something so deeply personal to someone I don't even know?” 

The gruff man is quiet for a long moment. “Right.” He nods, adding a mumbled but clear, “sorry.”

Yahaba isn't given enough time to be surprised as Kuroo and Oikawa re-enter the room. It's quiet as the brunet stabilizes his leg, the heat pack thrown over his shoulder. All the while, Kuroo takes to gathering up their stuff. After completing what he deems an adequate bandaging, Oikawa speaks to them again. “Let's get him to the locker room for now.” 

“Kyoutani, help me carry him.” The bed head requests. 

“It's fine, I don't need-” Oikawa's glare shuts him up. 

The black haired gossip moves to help gather up the injured Yahaba but Kyoutani is already gingerly lifting him on his own. 

“Right.” Kuroo mumbles.

The act of being lifted and carried so easily doesn't appeal to Yahaba's at all. Well, maybe a little. Okay, it's actually kind of exciting in a way that is entirely inappropriate given the situation. 

The four make their way to the locker rooms, Kyoutani setting down Yahaba on a bench upon arrival, in a manner that is surprisingly gentle. Before Yahaba can move, Oikawa places the heat pack on his thigh before fishing Yahaba's phone out of Kuroo’s pocket. “I'm going to call your physical therapist and your doctor to see if they can get you in.” 

“I'll grab my car.” Kuroo adds helpfully, both leaving before the injured boy can get a word in edgewise. 

Kyoutani and Yahaba sit there in an awkward silence.

With a deep breath, Yahaba leans back, his head resting against the wall. This sucked. He had been so stupid, letting his anger get the best of him. God, he knew better than to let the guy get under his skin, but there was something about him that Yahaba couldn't ignore. Even less so with said man sitting right beside him. Now, with the pain dwindling to a twinge that mostly only was triggered by movement, he could consider what had transpired. The blond has been a pain in his ass every time he has encountered him, and yet he had been one of the first by his side after he fell. He even loaned him the towel that was still draped around his neck. Yahaba wasn't sure what to make of this personality 180. He was even less certain what to make of the man's apology. Was there actually enough social awareness in the olympian to be capable of such a sincere apology? He didn't know, but he wanted to believe there was. Afterall, the man was still by his side even when he didn't have to be. 

He looked at the other thoughtfully for a moment. How much was he willing to trust in this guy's sudden attitude change. While pondering this, he felt the towel slip from his neck. Thankfully. he managed to catch it before it hit the floor. He looks at the towel briefly before coming to a decision. 

“It wasn't running.” He spoke quietly, returning the towel to its owner. The blond receive the towel with a questioning noise. “Hurdles. My event was hurdles.” Yahaba's confession was met with surprise from the mad dog. Kyoutani remained quiet though, presumably to give Yahaba the opportunity to continue should he want to. 

With a deep breath, Yahaba continued. “It was at my first meet of my last year of high school. It was one of those days where you wake up feeling like you're at your best. You know what I'm talking about?” He doesn't wait for a response before he continues. “My event started and I felt amazing, just like I had that morning. I knew I was doing well. I wasn't thinking, just moving; no, not even moving, flying. I was clearing the hurdles like they weren't even there. We were maybe two-thirds the way through when I was approaching the lead. There was no way I wasn’t going to pass him. Not with the way I was moving. Right as I was about to pass, the leads back foot hit the hurdle I was about to jump. It tilted forward but bounced back and caught my leg as I was going over. It was painful. My leg. Losing. Losing potential scholarships from all the universities watching. I had to be carried off the track by paramedics. It was declared an accident, obviously, but after catching a glimpse of the guy's face that tripped me up, I knew it was intentional.” Reliving the memory was horrible, but sharing it with someone who could potentially empathize helped. “The muscular damage was too severe. I wouldn't be able to compete an anymore, regardless of the physical therapy. I’ve only been approved for light exercise. Today… Today I was stupid. So stupid.” Yahaba finished, pointedly not making eye contact with the Olympian.

It's quiet for a while. Eventually, the other man responds. “People who win by means of something other than ability have no place in sports. You were the true athlete that day.” 

Yahaba’s breath hitched, the tightness in his chest and emotion knotting in his throat almost suffocating him. It was overwhelming. What Kyoutani said and how it made him feel, it overwhelmed him and in the most beautifully painful way imaginable. 

He didn’t realize it until now, but that is what he’d been waiting to hear all these years. 

This guy, Kyoutani Kentarou, had the uncanny ability to make him feel things in extraordinary ways, yet this was the first time that it was so meaningful. It shook him to his core. More than the rage the blond previously incited in him. More than any of the annoyance. It was this. This simple, yet sincere, truth. 

It moved him. 

He turned his head away from the other man so that he would not notice the tears welling in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered quietly. 

The strange serenity of the moment was broken by Kuroo coming into the locker room, twirling his keys around his index finger. “Kyoutani can you bring him to my car?” 

The blond was already lifting Yahaba before the black haired man finished his request. They made their way to the parking lot where they were met by Oikawa. “Ya-chan, your doctor can squeeze you in, so we need to head straight over. Kuroo, can you drop us off there?”

“Of course.” Kuroo unlocked his car, opening the door widely so Kyoutani could get Yahaba in the back seat.

Again, Kyoutani was surprisingly gentle when placing Yahaba into the car. He even buckled him while Oikawa and Kuroo were looking up directions. He doesn’t pull away even after getting Yahaba situated. Instead he crouches closer next to the car and places a hand on his shoulder. Yahaba blinks down at him curiously. The future olympian seeming to be conflicted about something, his face unreadable. After a moment, his eyes meet Yahaba’s. There was something intense in his eyes that Yahaba couldn’t place, but it was electrifying.

“I-” The blond began a little unsteadily, “I will win for the both of us.” He gives Yahaba’s shoulder a slightly rough squeeze. “I promise.” Having said his piece, he turns and heads back towards the gym, leaving Yahaba wide eyed and in a stupor. 

His brain still processing, even as the car starts and pulls away from the parking lot. 

~~~

Oikawa burst into their dorm, as per usual, throwing his bag haphazardly. Yahaba doesn’t even flinch when it lands on his back from where he’s sprawled out on his bed. What does surprise him is an additional bag being dropped unceremoniously onto his ass. With a jolt he looks up to catch the smirking face of the resident bedhead, Kuroo. 

He opens his mouth to yell at the intruder but then thinks again, as he recalls how the man had helped him two weeks ago. Decidedly, he keeps his mouth shut. 

The last two weeks had been a bit overwhelming. Between the physical therapy sessions and the near constant mental analysis of the olympian’s change in behavior, he was exhausted. His old injury had been aggravated, but he hadn’t reinjured himself, thank goodness. He was just beginning to move around freely again, though he had been forbidden to do any exercise for at least another month, which he wasn’t to broken about. It would get Oikawa off his back for a while. 

Speaking of, said man was giving him a gleeful look, which was the kind of look that made Yahaba very nervous.

“Ya-chan, you want to go out tomorrow morning?” 

Yahaba’s nervousness doubled when he noticed that Kuroo was fixing him with a similar gaze. “No?” He replied hesitantly. 

“Oh, okay.” Oikawa just nodded and turned to his side of the room nonchalantly. 

Yahaba’s eyes narrowed at his roommate's back. That had been too easy. Oikawa thought he was a master of subtlety. He wasn’t. It also didn’t help the brunet’s case that Yahaba had known the man long enough to know when he was baiting him. 

Yahaba knew this game well. He also knew exactly how to win. 

“Have fun.” He waves his hand dismissively, despite his roommate being turned away from him. 

He turned back to the book he had been reading before he had been so rudely interrupted. He tried to ignore Kuroo, as he felt the black haired man’s curious gaze on him. Kuroo was a fairly observant person, so he probably had Yahaba’s scheme figured out. Or was at least was on his way to deciphering his tactic. 

Mentally, Yahaba started the countdown. _10… 9… 8...7… 6… 5… 4... 3-_

“Mo! Ya-chan! Don’t you wanna know?!” Oikawa whips around to him, a pout on his lips. 

Ah, that took less time than he thought. “I don’t know, do I?” He returned flatly. 

Kuroo, meanwhile, looked positively delighted. He seemed wildly entertained at Yahaba’s deft manipulation of his roommate. 

Oikawa's pout increases tenfold at the apathetic response. The brunet stomps his feet childishly before storming over to Yahaba, yanking the book out of his hand. 

“Hey-”

“There's a meet tomorrow. Here.” 

Yahaba blinks at his roommate for a moment before the realization hits him. There's a track meet tomorrow. Kyoutani would undoubtedly be competing. He could see for himself the reason why everyone revered and feared the blond. 

“I'll go.” Slips out before he can stop himself. Not to mention the unintended inflection sounding more eager than he had hoped. 

Oikawa responds with a gleeful noise while Kuroo just laughs that awkward laugh of his. 

Yahaba was certain he would never live this moment down, so he silently prayed that it would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my tumblr and say hi!: [TattoedCrow](https://tattooedcrow.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything he thought he knew is... wrong? Yahaba's not sure what he feels but he needs to come to a decision before his nosey roommate makes one for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the fourth day of Haikyuu-mas   
> My haikyuu love gave to me  
> Four: subtle KurooDaichi  
> Three: Squealing Oikawa  
> Two: Fighting Yahaba  
> And a story about Kyoutani

Sometimes Yahaba was grateful to have the brunet as his roommate. It was increasingly rare, but it did happen. Today was one of those days. 

By the time Yahaba had woken up, his roommate had already picked out an outfit for him that was stylish but not excessively so. It probably would've taken him hours to choose something himself, so Oikawa saving him the trouble was definitely appreciated. 

It had taken a while for him to get ready, but it wasn't because he wanted to look good for the olympian or anything. Definitely not. He just had a standard to adhere to whenever he went out with Oikawa. Speaking of, said man was sitting on his bed looking smug as all get out with his basic bitch Starbucks concoction. The fierce and often violent side of Yahaba wanted to punch the smugness off his roommate’s pretty face. He probably would've too, but the thought of Iwaizumi's wrath was enough to downgrade the thought to a smack to the back of Oikawa's head, which he promptly did.

“Ow! Ya-Chan, so mean.”

“Stop being so smug, asshole.” Yahaba grumbled, grabbing his keys and wallet before walking out the door with his roommate. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” The brunet responded, blinking his heavy lashes with upturned eyes, as if he was innocent.

Again, subtlety wasn't Oikawa's forte. 

Thankfully, his roommate was quiet after that. Well, by quiet, he means less noisy. The brunet just humming happily as they headed toward the gym. 

The near silence was enough to give Yahaba time to gather his thoughts. 

Okay. First, he needed to break everything down because thinking about everything all at once had left him a jumbled mess for the last few weeks. 

So, from the beginning: Kyoutani was an idiot. Regardless of everything that happened, he was pretty certain the guy was still an idiot. His behavior in the gym was nothing short of dangerous. Not to mention, the idiot lacked any form of social grace. Next, his appearance. The guy's dye job and eyeliner were tacky. Still, it did amplify his already terrifying aura. So if that was his goal, then he accomplished that in spades. Though while it was tacky, it did suit him in a way that no one else could even begin to pull off, a fact that Yahaba was able to admit, albeit hesitantly. And then there were those muscles. Oh Lord, those muscles. Yahaba had never really considered what sort of type he had, but he certainly had never entertained the thought of being into such a beefcake. But now, he wasn’t so sure. The way Kyoutani lifted him with ease was admittedly thrilling. So okay, the muscles were a check in the man’s favor. Then again, the man has shown himself to be judgemental and ignorant. Yet, this could fall into the idiocy category. He had made so many assumptions and on top of that had the nerve to confront him on them, like it was any of his business. Why had he involved himself with Yahaba in the first place? He wasn't sure, but he did know that the man had pushed all of the right buttons to push Yahaba into that kind of fury. Finally, there was what he dubbed “incident 180”. Not only had the man accepted Yahaba's criticism, but he had also apologized sincerely as well. He had even offered his towel and stayed by his side. Oikawa had asked him to, though for some reason- call it intuition- he had a feeling the Olympian would've done so regardless of the request. Then, for whatever reason, which Yahaba still couldn't fathom, he had found himself opening up to the athlete. He hadn't been sure what to expect by divulging his past, but he was pleasantly surprised to find the other man listening respectfully. Also he had said… what he said, and that had shocked Yahaba to his core. That was the moment when he realized that there was more to Kyoutani than he had thought previously. Then the blond had also claimed he would compete for Yahaba as well. Yahaba had been conflicted about this the most. A part of him was indignant. Like the man was pitying him or something. Yahaba didn't ask for that nor did he want it. He wasn't some kind of charity case. Yet, another part of him was guiltily pleased by the gesture. In a way, he found it sort of romantic in Kyoutani's unique and own awkward way. He wanted to believe that the blond had only good intentions in the declaration, but he still wasn't sure. So, all things considered, how did he feel? More specifically, how did he feel about Kyoutani? We're his feelings of annoyance? Friendliness? Or was it something more? 

He didn't know the answer, but he sure wanted to find out. 

Yahaba was so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed they'd reached the gym until he heard a familiar “oya-oya?”. Kuroo had been around a bit more than usual lately. His presence didn't really bother him though. It was more that he seemed to be in cahoots with Oikawa about something, and he was fairly certain that it didn't bode well for him. 

“I saved us some seats in the bleachers.” The black haired man mumbled along with a greeting. 

Yahaba had a feeling that Kuroo had been there longer than he wanted to appear. He also had a feeling it was due to a certain captain who was competing that day as well.

It always surprised Yahaba how much they could transform a gym for these sort of events. While the school had numerous gyms, this one was the most adaptable and was often used for the “less conventional” sports. Thus, the seating tended to be limited, but these events typically weren't a big draw spectator event. Nevertheless, that did not appear to be the case now. All seating was practically filled to capacity, some even spilling out to standing room only areas. At first, the crowd befuddled Yahaba, but after a moment, realization set in: they were all here to see him.

His Kyoutani.

The man was projected to go to the Olympics after all. That possibility alone was enough to fill the place. 

Wait. His Kyoutani?

Yahaba blushed uncomfortably at the possessive thought. He hasn't even made a decision on how he felt, yet here he was, mentally staking his claim.

~~~

It wasn't terribly long before the event started. Yahaba watched rather disinterestedly as athletes came, threw, and went. Shot put had never really interested him. That is until recently. As of late, he found himself _inexplicably_ fascinated. Specifically with one athlete. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa and Kuroo engaged in campus gossip. However, Yahaba could feel their eyes on him. Observing him. He had zero doubt at this point that they were planning something nefarious against him. 

He considered confronting them for a moment then decided that was for future Yahaba to worry about. 

Yahaba was startled from his contemplation by the sudden cheering from those around him. That’s when he noticed Kyoutani take the “field”. He held his breath as the blond stepped into the ring. Oikawa’s sudden shriek from next to him causing him to choke on said breath. 

“Kyou-Ken-chan!”

Yahaba saw the blond turn their way for a moment. He had hoped to catch his eye before the throw but the olympian’s glance was far too brief. Yahaba watched intently as Kyoutani moved slightly into a stretch before finally taking his stance. All the cheering died down simultaneously. The arena becoming silent. Breaths held as the olympic hopeful starts his toss. 

Typically, Yahaba found shot put a graceless sport that was rather ugly to watch, if he were to be honest. Yet here, as he watched Kyoutani, he was surprised by the amount of finesse the other man had. Yahaba, and the entirety of the complex, watched as the athlete spun around before releasing the shot at an almost inconceivable velocity. It was enrapturing. The mad dog had such overwhelming control over his body. 

The ball landed with a dull thud, and while Yahaba hadn’t really been paying attention, he did know that he passed the other competitors by a significant margin. The crowd was instantly on its feet and roared at the display of pure athleticism. 

Oikawa was shaking him and shouting in his ear, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest. What he had just witnessed was just… stupid. The guy moved liked a bullet being fired from a gun. Once the power was released, it was explosive. But it was also kind of beautiful, in a bizarrely brutish ,yet somehow graceful, way. It pissed him off. Cause it was just so fucking stupid. That shit head was freaking amazing. Amazing to the point that it stupefied him, and that is what pissed him off. 

Eventually, the crowd quieted down. Oikawa calmed as well though he seemed to not be happy about it, if the restless fidgeting was any indication. While it was painfully obvious that Kyoutani had taken the win with just that throw alone, they still waited on the official word. 

“Event: Shot Put, Competitor Kyoutani Kentarou, Score: 21.55 Meters...”

The rest of whatever was announced was deafened by the cheers of the crowd. Not that they needed to hear that he was the winner. Because again, it was obvious. 

Yahaba, unlike the celebratory behavior of those around him, kept his eyes on the blond. The man had moved to a nearby bench to dry off with a towel and drink from a tall water bottle. He had looked subtly pleased at the announcement of his score. It had been kind of endearing and perhaps even a little cute, the way in which the corner of his mouth had twitched and the subtle glee in his eyes. Yahaba watched as the blond gathered up his belongings off of the bench before he started to head off the ‘field’.

If Yahaba hadn’t been ignoring his boisterous roommate. If he hadn’t been watching the victor leaving the field. He would’ve missed it. 

He watched as Kyoutani paused in his departure. Without hesitation, the man pulled the towel from around his neck and held it high in his clenched fist. 

Yahaba knew that towel. 

It was the towel Kyoutani had loaned him in the gym that day. 

Yahaba’s legs gave out, and he crumbled back down onto the bench. His brain in a flurry. That guy he… did he mean… he’s such a… 

Finally, Yahaba’s mind settled, and he was able to compose himself. His momentary composure faded, quickly descending into unrestrained jovial laughter. 

The disparity was hilarious. 

The Mad Dog: a romantic. 

With that, he found his answer. 

~~~

Kuroo and Oikawa had seemed genuinely confused and concerned as they watched Yahaba laugh himself silly. Eventually, he calmed, of course no thanks to them, and proceeded to deftly avoided any inquiries about his sudden hysteria. 

It was shortly thereafter that they announced the hurdles event. 

He didn’t want to be that person, haunted by trauma, but he knew he wasn’t ready to watch others live his passion. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to. With just a look, he was able to communicate to his roommate his discomfort, and the brunet skillfully navigated them away and out of the gym. Yahaba felt like he should say something, but any obligation he felt was erased by his roommate sending him a genuine smile and a slight shake of the head. 

 

He did love Oikawa. Even if the brunet made him absolutely bonkers sometimes. Still, under the superfluous exterior, there was a loyal and true friend that he cherished deeply. 

They made their way back to the dorm. All the while, Kuroo and Oikawa chattering at him about Kyoutani’s performance, as if he hadn’t seen it himself. They were talking the athlete up excessively, which kind of puzzled Yahaba. He had seen it himself. He had been impressed, not that he would admit it willingly. So, why did they feel the need to impart some sort of favor for the blond to Yahaba? 

Well, whatever. 

They were just entering the dormitory when Kuroo paused. “Hey, so I’m the best right?” He asked, as if it was a perfectly normal question. 

Oikawa and Yahaba just stared at him flatly. The silence was palpable.

Kuroo ignored them and continue. “Right,” he confirmed to himself. “So, I scored us an invite to a track meet after party tonight, at one of the frats.” The two looked at him with varying levels of surprise. “This is where is you thank me and tell me how ridiculously handsome and generous I am.” 

“Please, you got that invitation so you could ‘score’ with a certain team captain.” The brunet retorted saucily. 

The bed-headed man deflated visibly. “Fine, if you don’t want to go. It’s not like all the athletes will be there or anything.” He mumbled sarcastically.

Kuroo was trying to provoke him. Yahaba knew this. He didn’t care. 

“We’re going. Stop being a child.” Yahaba replied firmly, tone tinted with a dare for either of them to comment on his decision. 

It seemed that the two valued their lives, as they chose to remain silent. 

~~~

He hadn't asked Oikawa for help, but yet again, the brunet had picked out an outfit for him for the party they were now headed to. He would complain about his roommate rifling through his closet without permission if he didn't make him look so good. Oikawa's outfit was as flashy as ever, yet despite that, the man had picked him out something that was subtle yet stylish. 

Yahaba looked at his clothes once again as they made their way across campus towards the frat housing. An olive henley under a tan-ish, taupe-ish cardigan paired with some blue jeans with the cuffs rolled enough to show off his yellow-brown ankle boots. The layers were a bit stuffy, but he looked good to the point where he would persevere. 

They were over a block away, yet they could already hear the party that was undoubtedly raging. Yahaba couldn't blame them though. They had taken more victories than the other schools they were competing with, afterall. Surprising as it may be, he didn't mind ragers like this. Though, he never stayed long, growing weary of drunk college student idiocy. 

They made their way into the crammed house, pushing past countless loud people to grab some beer from a conveniently placed ice chest. They had agreed before leaving their dorm that they would stick together, because besides Oikawa and Kuroo (and potentially Kyoutani) Yahaba didn't know anyone. Of course, that all went out the window when Oikawa was beckoned loudly by some drunken buffoon. 

Yahaba signed, annoyed with himself for actually thinking the brunet would accompany him for the evening. Perhaps Kuroo would provide more consistent companionship than Oikawa the betrayer. 

It didn't take long for Yahaba to spot Kuroo, the man was ridiculously tall afterall. He started shoving his way in that direction. Pausing, he noticed Kuroo not so subtly hitting on the track team captain, Daichi, with a haphazard- but definitely intentional- arm draped over the shorter man's shoulders. The bed-headed man was exuding a seductive aura and countenance that shockingly seemed to be working, if the other man's face was anything to go by. Yahaba felt mildly bad for being surprised that Kuroo actually had game. 

Decidedly, he left Kuroo to his conquest. No Kuroo and no Oikawa left Yahaba at a loss. After a moment's pondering, he decided to see if the man of the day, a certain disgruntled blond, was about. 

He had looked for a half hour before giving up his search. It didn't really surprise him that Kyoutani would avoid this sort of thing. With no acquaintances, Yahaba decided to do the next best thing: find the quietest corner possible and watch the train wreck that was a drunken college frat party. He undoubtedly would leave before long, as he tended to grow bored of the same shenanigans that always repeated themselves at these parties. 

He huffed out a sort of laugh at finding someone occupying the corner he had deemed the most unobtrusive. His approach went unnoticed by the occupant. 

“So even the great Kyou-ken-chan can mingle with the bottom dwellers.” Yahaba knew the blond didn't need to see him to hear the smirk that was undoubtedly on his face.

The athlete didn't seem to startle at the sudden addressal. Merely, he turned and took in Yahaba's visage in a way that had Yahaba flushing from something other than the alcohol. 

“And I'm already regretting it,” the blond grumbled, as he gestured generally at the dumpster fire that was this party.

Yahaba let out a small laugh that had Kyoutani snorting pleasantly. “Oh? But it's so entertaining. I mean just look,” he gestured to a couple. “A drunken breakup that is obviously because that guy is wearing crocs.” Yahaba grinned as Kyoutani grunted in what could only be deciphered as amusement. Yahaba continued, “and look over there, that guy is trying to do a keg stand but mistook that paint drum as a keg. He's going to be very disappointed…”

“Look at that asshole,” Kyoutani pointed, “he looks ridiculous. Like a peacock. Dumbass is trying way too hard.” 

Yahaba outright laughed as the blond was clearly addressing Yahaba's roommate. 

After his laughter subsided he looked the other in the eye. “You know, you weren't absolute shit today. Keep it up and you may eventually be good.” His fond tone betrayed his snide, but saucy words. 

Kyoutani blinked at him before smiling. Like actually smiling. “Such an asshole.” 

Yahaba shrugged, not disputing the playfully mumbled words. “You know,” he started, “for a muscled brained twat rocket, you're not so bad.” Yahaba returned the smile at the admittance. 

“Thanks, you're not bad either, despite being a cream puff flavored-douche canoe.” 

“So sweet.” Yahaba flutters his eyelashes. Setting aside his empty beer bottle and with a smirk that could be described as seductive. He stepped into Kyoutani's space. “And how, pray tell, did you discover my flavor, hmm?” 

Yahaba had to hold in a chortle as the blond flushed crimson. Yahaba had won their battle of wits, not that there was any other possible outcome. 

For a while they just started at each other. Yahaba had been waiting for a response, which was clearly an error as Kyoutani seemed incapable of coherent thought. Not surprising. It was a solid three minutes before Yahaba had enough. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not, dumbass?” 

Yahaba's words seemed to resuscitate the olympian. Before Yahaba couldn't even get out an amused chuckle, he was begging pulled into a hard kiss. 

~~~

Oikawa laughed at something Kuroo said. At some point, they had begun a conversation, wrangling Daichi into it as well. Not that Kuroo was going to let his prey get away. 

Oikawa turned to the person behind him, “isn’t that delightfully absurd, Ya-chan?” 

The brunet blinked at the clearly not Ya-chan behind him that was staring at him confusedly. “You’re not Ya-cha.” He turned back to Kuroo, his face slowly twisting into panic. “I lost Ya-chan! I told him I’d stay with him! I’m the worst roommate ever!”

“Yup.” Daichi and Kuroo responded simultaneously. 

Oikawa’s panic turned into an annoyed pout. “Rude. Because of that, you’re helping me find him!” He pried the rooster headed man away from his target and drug him rather unwillingly through the house. Kuroo had let out the saddest mewl from being pulled away from the captain, but Oikawa elected to ignore Kuroo’s pain. Eventually, Kuroo gave in and committed to the search. Most likely because he knew the sooner Oikawa got what he wanted, the sooner he could return to Daichi.

They wandered the house for a while, asking if anyone had seen their favorite cream puff. Oikawa was starting to get worried. His roommate hadn’t answered his phone, and nobody seemed to have seen him. Then again, no one seemed to know who he was in the first place. Also, everyone was drunk, so there was that. He was beginning to get more desperate when he felt Kuroo tug his arm and pulled him close enough so he didn’t have to yell. 

 

“I don’t think Yahaba will mind you ruthlessly ditching him.”

Really, this guy was so rude sometimes. “I didn’t ditch him on purpose! Meanie! I still need to find him because I promised.”

“Nah. You should probably leave it.” Oikawa narrowed his gaze at the other man. Clearly, he was missing something. “I don’t think he needs your company anymore, seems like he found some on his own.” 

The black haired man points to a corner of the room where-

Well… where Yahaba and Kyoutani were doing what could only be described as eating each other’s faces. There was also groping. A lot of groping. 

The squeal Oikawa released very adequately disrupted the party.

Later, once reunited with his roommate, he lamented that all his plans and hard work had gone to waste. He despaired the ruined scheme that apparently involved doves. While he was being outlandishly dramatic, Yahaba knew that the brunet couldn’t be happier for him. 

Yahaba couldn’t be happier either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, ya'll!
> 
> It's the end! I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Now I have proof that I can write something that isn't abo or smut (not that there's anything wrong with either) AND that I can finish something. womp womp.
> 
> Until next time~ XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> Visit my Tumblr: [TattooedCrow](https://tattooedcrow.tumblr.com/)


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